His Moonlit Escape
by MiaGhost
Summary: At the beginning of term Harry realises he is suffocating, and to compensate he starts sneaking out of the dorms at night. He watches the moon rise, and he flies, escaping his worries and the world's expectations. When he first sees the snow-white wolf streaking through the grounds, Harry finds himself intrigued, and determined to see him again. (Rated T for Language.)
1. A Taster

_Chapter One_

With a sigh, Harry settled back against the stone of the battlement, the tips of his trainers pressing against the next rise. His broom lay across his waist; a safety net of sorts should he topple from his perch atop the Astronomy tower. He ran his fingers absently along the smooth of the warm wood as he watched the sky.

Since the start of the new term a mere fortnight ago, Harry had been subject to the pity and support of his Housemates. He knew he sounded ungrateful, but he wished they'd all just leave him alone to get on with it. They all worried and cared so much that he felt he was suffocating under all their concern. With Sirius gone, his life outside of the school felt empty, his world bleak and he himself bereft. Sirius had been all he'd had, his one true family member. He had listened to Harry, and better still he had been the one to understand what Harry was feeling, what he needed. He'd been the only one Harry could truly talk to, the only one…

With Remus it was so different, the man had Harry's best interests at heart but he was so straight-laced that Harry couldn't fully relax. He couldn't express what was truly haunting him, the darkest thoughts that were caged within his head, because Remus would worry, and he'd tell Dumbledore and the others, and they would all worry. He'd want Harry to tell, to explain.

Harry didn't want the world to know. He didn't want to explain and work through it.

Sirius had understood that.

Sirius had let him talk, and he had listened.

And now he was gone, and Harry was alone.

The distant speckles of stars blurred as Harry's tears escaped, and he let them fall there in the darkness, alone in the peace of the night with the remnants of a summer breeze brushing though his hair and drawing delicate fingers through his clothing as though to ease him from the parapet.

Harry closed his eyes.

He listened to the whisper of the breeze in his ears, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat in his chest. He only realised he was leaning out over the drop when he felt his broomstick over-balancing. His eyes shot open and he clutched for the handle.

Harry tipped over the edge of the roof and let the breeze drag him down.


	2. First Sighting

_Chapter Two_

Dropping from the tower was exhilarating and even though he knew he had enough time to get his broom under him, the rush of the fall was intoxicating. He gripped his broom tightly in his right hand and only just managed to bite back the whoop that would get him caught.

He swung his body in the air, hooking one leg over the smooth wood of the broom and pushed forwards. He changed direction mere feet from the ground with a simple lean and as he raced over the grounds he felt his heart soaring with him. Was there anything better than being free? And was there ever a better way to be fee than to fly?

He spiralled upwards, the wind a welcomingly harsh barrier as he closed his eyes, falling into a tumble, twisting left and right and feeling the broom obey without effort. He finally levelled out above the old Hut, and he lowered himself gently from his broom onto the lopsided roof. Harry tucked his knees up under his chin and sighed, looking out across the grounds to where the castle stood. The stone walls reached into the darkened sky like guardians and Harry felt both safe and free in equal measure. He watched the sky, lying back on the rough tiles, and for a while he was content just to breathe and watch the stars twinkle.

He lost track of time, but eventually Harry accepted that he had to head back inside. He was reluctantly picking up his broom when he saw the flash. He froze, staring at the dark treelike where he thought he'd seen the light. He didn't realise he had his wand in his hand until he relaxed, hesitating before returning it to his pocket. He swung a leg over his broom and lifted from the roof, flying upwards in a gentle slope before cresting and leaning into a lazy loop, spiralling gently towards the ground.

He landed with a smile. The exhilaration of flying would never wear off, he suspected. It was just as thrilling now as it had been that first time when he'd chased Neville's Remembrall, only less frightening. He was resigned to returning to the dorm when he saw the wolf. He turned, at first disbelieving and then slightly afraid as he stared across the hundred yards or so between himself and the startling creature.

The wolf was lean and regal-looking, his coat a shining ashy-grey that looked white as pearls in the moonlight. The dark black oval of his nose twitches as the creature turned ice-blue eyes on him. The wolf seemed surprised, and paused for a moment before lowering his snout and baring terrifyingly white teeth. A vicious-sounding growl rolled from between the jaws and one paw dug at the mossy ground. Harry swallowed, unable to take his eyes from those deadly teeth as he fumbled for his wand.

He clutched it but didn't aim. He wasn't going to hurt him if he could help it. He tried to breathe evenly as he adjusted his broom, each movement slow and deliberate so as not to startle the white wolf. When he was sure he had a foot on either side of his broom he pushed forward with his hand. There was a single second of utter weightlessness before he landed on the already-climbing broom, quickly adjusting his grip and pushing into the sky. He looked down at the wolf, amazed to see the creature hadn't moved much. He had, however, sat down, and was now craning his muzzle up into the air to watch Harry's retreat. Odd.

Harry had reached the Main steps when he heard the eerily chilling sound of the wolf howling. He tired back without thought, looking across the large green towards the very small white form that was still nestled between the trees. The wolf's call was strangely beautiful, a melancholy sound that filled Harry up with a comfortable heaviness. He turned towards the school, almost saddened that the doors closing behind him cut off the cries. He headed back to Gryffindor tower feeling oddly satisfied despite the fact that his escapade could have turned nasty.

Harry's head had barely hit the pillow before he was asleep, his broom still gripped in one hand.


End file.
